


Brownies? At this hour?

by Onlymostydead



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, a bit of making out, they're all idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-11 01:08:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7018822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onlymostydead/pseuds/Onlymostydead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grif was screaming.<br/>Sarge was re-cocking his gun.<br/>Donut stood rigid, a dropped pan of brownies at his feet.<br/>Simmons was confused.<br/>And Lopez was NOT cleaning up this mess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brownies? At this hour?

**Author's Note:**

> Literally, this is just tooth-rotting fluff.  
> Also- Poly Red Team? I only tagged it as Donut/Grif, as they're the only ones who act anything close to dating- but yeah.  
> Poly Red Team.

Donut was pretty pleased with himself.  
His secret mission had finally succeeded, that being getting Grif alone.  
At night.  
In the kitchen, you perv.  
Weeks of begging (and the promise of brownies- of the non-vegan variety) had finally paid off, and now they got to try out that new recipe, without anyone getting in the way. 

To be honest, however... They did get a little carried away...  
One thing led to another, Grif licked a bit of batter of Donut's finger...  
...and Grif HAD gotten a little on his lips...  
Soon enough hands were tangled in each others hair, and they were doing far more kissing than baking.  
Not that either were complaining.  
Donut had leaned in a bit closer...  
Grif had stepped back to support himself against the counter...  
And in one panicked moment the both (bolth?) of them fell on the floor with a resounding thud.

Of course the timer would go off while they were still laughing on the floor.  
Still laughing, Donut would peel himself off Grif to get the pan of brownies.  
And that's when the gunshot went off...  
...  
Sarge was furious.  
He had finally just gotten to sleep, which never came easy these days, and was having a wonderful dream about killing all of them dirty blues. Of course that was when he was rudely awoken by a loud thud, followed by a giggle fit of sorts. 

This had to be the work of those blues...  
He pushed off the covers, grumbling, and pulled on his helmet, making sure his shotgun was loaded before he left the room.  
As he got the ammo an alarm of sorts blared from the kitchen, the only thing to be heard in the silence of red base.

"It's gotta be a bomb, those dirty, good fer nothin'..."

He snuck from his room to the kitchen, stopping a moment to overhear the scoundrels, still laughing.  
He turned the corner and shot the first thing that moved.  
Which just happened to be the baking dish Donut had just pulled from the oven.  
...  
Grif was terrified.  
He had just been baking with Donut, mostly to get the other to stop with the never ending nagging, when things had just started to get good.  
They had been kissing, one hand tangled in the blonde's curly hair, the other holding him close.  
Donut had leaned in closer, eliminating any distance between them.  
He had stepped in yet closer, and Grif had taken a step back in response, grabbing the counter for support...  
Except it really wasn't where he thought it had been, and they both fell to the floor.  
He had never before believed Sarge's ramblings about slow motion, but it sure felt like life found a way then.

Neither of them could stop themselves from laughing, despite the hour.  
And when the timer went off on top of that?  
That was icing on the cake- wait, brownie?  
Never mind.  
Don't try to make puns when you're hungry.  
Donut was still laughing when he took the pan out of the oven until...  
BANG  
Out of nowhere a bullet passed through the still very gooey brownies and, thankfully missing a very shocked Donut, lodging itself in the floor.  
As a first instinct Donut dropped the pan, which in turn hit Grif's foot and clashed onto the floor.  
They looked up from the chocolate-y mess to see a very surprised, and very tired, Sarge standing in the doorway.  
And to hear another door open further down the hall.  
...  
Simmons was confused, to say the least.  
A loud thud had woken him, but noises like that weren't exactly uncommon in Red Base, one learned to ignore them.  
So he had rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.  
Which is when whoever was still up at this hour started laughing like a maniac.

He sighed. If there was any danger Sarge would deal with it, after all, he didn't need everyone teasing him about jumping at shadows again.  
And plus, where was that damn power cord, his eye was flashing yellow...

And that was when the shot went off.

Simmons scrambled frantically to get out of bed, in his haste forgetting his glasses.  
He regretted this instantly when he rounded the corner and entered the kitchen.

If he wasn't too confused before, he certainly was now.

A brownish orange blur, about the right size to be Grif, was sitting on the floor, shrieking something unintelligible rather indignantly.  
A pale pink blur, what Simmons presumed to be Donut, stood facing the unmistakeable red flannel pajamas and helmet of Sarge... Or was he turned away?

"What the- thinking- just mind- fucking- baking! Why the- what!"

Grif had pushed the hot metal pan off his foot, burning his hand as well, which did nothing to stop his yelling.

"Dammit Grif! What in Sam Hell's goin' on!"

Sarge already had his Shotgun pointed at Grif. 

"Sa-arge! You made me drop my brownies!" Donut squealed, striding toward his commanding officer, hands placed firmly on his hips. 

Unfortunately, he had forgotten about Grif's current position; on the floor trying to get the hot fudge-y mess off his sock, and tripped over him with quite the squeak.  
Grif, finally, got the sense to take off his sock.

"What'th going on in here?"  
Simmons yawned, rubbing his organic eye.

"Simmons! Why the hell are you talkin' like that!"

"Talking like what, Thir?"

"Like that! 'D ya get a lisp all of a sudden?"

Simmons was becoming more stressed and confused by the second now, oh wait-

"Thorry Thir, I forgot to take my retainerth out!"

Realizing his mistake, Simmons popped of the clear plastic retainers.

"That's better! Now go get stuff to clean this shit up!"

Sarge grumbled about how dumb Grif was to be baking at 'this damned hour of the mornin' as he sulked away.

Donut scrambled to his feet and dusted off his apron.

"Wow, this has turned into a hot, sticky, sweaty mess! We should all go get cleaned up!"

Simmons met Grif's eyes, as best he could without his glasses, conveying a clear message.

"...Damn it Donut."

...

Lopez opened the closet door, his limbs creaking and complaining about the movement. He really needed to re-oil his joints.

...

Grif pulled himself to his feet, careful not to step in the chocolaty, gooey mess. Grabbing an oven mitt he picked up the pan.

This would have appeared helpful, aside from the fact that both Donut and Simmons knew that he was simply going to take it to his room and eat the remaining brownie out of it.  
Leaving the mess on the floor, which now included a definitely clean sock (read: filthy)

"Idiotas."

Donut and Simmons both turned toward the robot who, despite his lack of facial expression, stared at the scene with obvious disdain, before returning to his shared closet with he vacuum cleaner.

It was better company than them, after all.

"I... Umm... I need to go make sure Grif is okay! It looked like he burned his leg something awful, and someone should make sure he's alright!"

Donut practically skipped away from the mess, and the responsibility of cleaning it up.

Simmons sighed and went back to his room to grab his glasses, and put away his retainer.  
It would be a long night.

**Author's Note:**

> I only ever write angst, so this was fun.  
> Comments and Kudos are love <3


End file.
